


Destroyers

by SnowSetAfire



Category: Suikoden III
Genre: Anal Sex, Castration, Cuckolding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Origin Story, Porn, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowSetAfire/pseuds/SnowSetAfire
Summary: At an inn in Caleria, Luc needs physical strength that he, Sarah, and Albert cannot provide in order to fulfill his plan and destroy the Wind Rune.  Albert Silverberg knows how to oblige.
Relationships: Luc/Albert Silverberg, Luc/Sarah (Suikoden III), Sarah/Albert Silverberg





	Destroyers

“We have too much brains between us, and no brawn,” Luc complains, rubbing his forehead with frustration.  
“But the rest of the plan is sound, right?” Sarah says, rubbing Luc’s back comfortingly, “We can do it with what you taught me, with Leknaat’s Gate Rune techniques and my illusions.”  
“Yes, but… What is it Albert? Stop smirking.”  
“My grandfather knew a technique that could give us all the strength we need.”  
Albert smiles, his arms folded across his broad chest as he appraises the pair in front of him. Flippantly, he combs back his dark red hair from his forehead, running his large hand past the roots. As stubborn as he is, Albert’s hair falls back in place no sooner than it parts his fingers. He’s been waiting for this turn of conversation.  
“And what is this ‘technique’ Leon knew?” Luc challenges.  
“I won’t use his, but a variation. Sarah, draw this sigil on the floor.”  
“The innkeeper won’t be mad?” Sarah asks, looking to Luc for confirmation.  
Luc shrugs. “I am here as Bishop of Harmonia. A little chalk would be the least of their worries. This idea of yours… It’s sound, Albert? What else is needed for this to work?”  
“Nothing much, nothing much. Just trust me,” Albert smiles. He rarely smiles, though more often than Luc. When Luc grins, it is something pained. When Albert does, it is predatory.  
At length, Sarah completes a magic circle in chalk on the floor of the inn’s attic, pushing aside the tables and chairs to make enough room for a creation as large and detailed as what Albert’s drawing describes. Taken in parts, the drawing is innocuous. Sarah only dares regard her work in pieces as she studiously makes every detail exactingly correct. As a whole, the sigil makes her feel dizzy and afraid, as if the floor would suck her in and leave not even a memory of her existence behind. Meanwhile, Albert has taken pieces of the inn’s room to place at each point of the circle. Silver in the north, a candle elsewhere, a small dish, and more, each more valuable for their meaning than their own identity.  
“Luc, sit in this chair at the fore,” Albert commands. Luc shows no hesitation as he does so. “Now, Sarah, tie his wrists and ankles. Then cast a silence on him.”  
“What’s the meaning of this?” Luc accuses, for the first time afraid. For a moment, the chalk sigil glows as pale as bone in moonlight. Sarah freezes like a deer caught at night by a hunter’s blinding lamp. She is helpless, Albert thinks, absolutely useless without her master.  
“I thought you would trust me? We need your True Rune for a conduit. I can’t guarantee what this ritual will draw out of it, but suffice to say we can’t have your wind magic interrupting it. So say it again: Do you trust me, Luc?”  
Luc snorts, a dismissive affirmation. He sits on the chair like it is his throne, like he is the one dealing orders and not demanding aid.  
“Do you trust me?” Albert asks again, his voice edged with annoyance.  
“You are my strategist,” Luc says. It is not enough, but it will do.  
“Sarah, as I said…” Albert goads, his voice tinged with a little honey.  
Meekly, she obeys. With four slip knots, she ties each ankle to a leg of the chair and each wrist to a wooden arm. Luc looks nothing if more defiant through his helplessness as Sarah murmurs a spell. He mouths words to her, but there is no noise. Sarah nods and faces Albert. Her pale cheeks are already flushed with consternation, bringing out the pale blueness of her eyes yet more. She is lovely, ill at-ease, Albert thinks, this will make the rest yet easier.  
“Take off your clothes.” Albert says, locking his gaze with hers. He sloughs off his own coat and tosses it to the side. Sarah startles as if prepared to run. Luc’s eyes widen and he strains powerlessly against his bonds.  
“Take. Off. Your. Clothes,” Albert repeats. He has no patience left. His cock strains against his pants as he unbuttons his shirt and casts that, too, aside. He takes a step towards Sarah. She backs away.  
“Stay in the circle!” Albert warns, “Or do you want to fail Luc?”  
Albert unbuttons his pants. Before he is even able to free his cock, Sarah’s eyes are on the fat bulge at his crotch. She knows what will happen. It makes Albert harder. The white chalk sigil seems to rise from its markings on the floor. Sarah again does not obey.  
Suddenly, Albert lunges at her, pulling Sarah close before she even has time to take a step. He forces her long skirts up over her ass, exposing her long, white legs. She wears no panties. Albert thinks this quaint, but a mystery for another time. He tears off the rest of her clothes and throws them against the wall before he pulls her shapely ass towards him as she tries to turn, tries to fend Albert off with her hands. Instead he grabs both wrists and pins them with one hand against the small of her back. He reaches around her his with the other, feeling out the soft round nub of her clit before spreading her nether lips with broad fingers. He presses his cock against her cleft, massaging the sensitive skin around it with his fingers.  
“How long this takes is up to you,” Albert says, and in a moment has guided the head of his cock towards the entrance to Sarah’s pussy, never once letting go of her wrists. He thrusts forward and Sarah yelps in pain. Her pussy is tight, Albert thinks, tighter than anything he’s felt and…  
“Blood?” Albert asks, “What is this, Luc? Did you never bother to fuck her or is your dick really that small?”  
Of course, Luc cannot answer. His face is a mask of rage, and his lips move with the shape of expletives but make no sound. He tries to get up, to throw a punch, but Sarah’s own ties hold him tight to the chair. The circle glows yet brighter.  
“Don’t worry, Sarah,” Albert groans between thrusts. She whimpers with each one. He can feel the head of his cock hitting some knot of flesh deep within her before he even has a chance to fill Sarah to the hilt. “I’ll make your body enjoy this. It will be so much easier when you’re wet for my cock.”  
“I’ll never!” Sarah shouts through tears, but already Albert can tell she was lying. Her body is beginning to betray her. Albert pulls back, pushing himself closer to climax as he lets the length of his cock give Sarah some respite with shallow thrusts, if only to massage a certain place inside which causes her to shiver in his grasp. He feels her legs begin to buckle as she rises up onto her toes, her back arching in unwanted ecstasy.   
Albert eyes Luc. The man, all the soft, studious, boyishness of him, strains against his confines. Wrists grow red, chafing against rope. The chair seems close to breaking apart with each futile kick of his legs. And his cock rises prominent against his pants.  
“Look at that,” Albert goads, twisting Sarah’s head to watch her Master’s enjoyment of her suffering, “He’s jealous. How about you help Luc out, hmm?”  
Sarah shakes her head vigorously, her body shivering on tiptoe as Albert prods her forwards, his cock never leaving her pussy. Her head leans, sobbing, against Luc’s shoulder as Albert pumps away inside her and he pulls down the wind magician’s pants. For all Albert’s mockery, Luc’s cock is not small. Anything it may lose in size is more than made up for in hardness. There is hardly anything between the engorged blood vessels underneath and the surface, purpling the head of Luc’s cock.  
“So you mustn’t’ve fucked her, huh? At least she must have tasted you,” Albert dares, forcing Sarah’s mouth down around Luc’s member.  
Sarah whimpers again, but differently than when it was only Albert raping her. She chokes and splutters, trapped between her master’s cock and Albert’s, almost relieved. Albert drives forward, feeling the heat of pleasure fill his body as Sarah falls nearly limp impaled between the two men, and Luc groans his own release. Albert pulls Sarah back, only for her to cough as a last string of thick, ropey white cum sprays across her face. He let her fall into the magic circle, now glowing more brightly than ever.  
Albert shoves his cock into Luc’s face. When Luc turns his head aside to avoid it, Albert seizes Luc’s head and forces his cock inside Luc’s mouth. It is nearly as good as Sarah’s pussy. Less tight, but much wetter. It is even better as Luc relents and Albert is able to thrust all the way into Luc’s throat.  
Albert loses no time regaining his desire as he fucks Luc’s mouth. This is only a prelude.   
“Thank you for cleaning me off,” Albert says between thrusts, as Sarah lays shaken and dripping onto the ever more radiant sigil on the floor. Luc tastes everything- Albert’s salty, bitter cum, Sarah’s own blood and sweet juices, in his mouth. “I want to see how much blood I draw when I fuck her ass. I’m sure you haven’t even bothered take that before me, have you?”  
Luc chokes at the suggestion, a wonderfully tight squeeze against Albert’s cock. Albert turns once more towards Sarah. He has no need to hold her hands back now. She is barely able to hold herself up on all fours as she whimpers Luc’s name and Albert’s cock caresses her still-dripping pussy and her virgin asshole. He could ease her into it, Albert thinks, he could wet a finger and probe inside her, and then a second. That would be kind. It would not work nearly as well for his purposes. And he is close. So, so close, to finishing the ritual.  
Albert presses the head of his cock against Sarah’s ass. Sarah begins to scream, but bites down on her fingers. Albert finds himself growing light-headed even faster than he expected. For him, there is only expectation and pleasure. For her, only pain. For Luc? Albert doesn’t dare guess. His cock rams Sarah over and over, aided only by the slickness of Luc’s saliva. With each thrust he can hear and feel his balls slapping against Sarah’s clit. Her groans become more confused and her back begins to arch in ways calculated to gain the most pleasure. Soon Sarah’s arms buckle and her full breasts smudge the clean lines of the magic sigil which shines so brightly now there is no need for lamps in the room. Sarah cries out, sobs, moans in rhythm with Albert. Her body loves it, if nothing else, Albert thinks, and looking over to Luc, so does he. Gradually between them materializes another figure. Something as shimmering, bright, bone-white as the chalk sigil. It is done. Albert, coughs, groans, fills Sarah with cum. He lets her go and she falls, quivering, to the ground, spilling semen across wood and chalk. Sarah’s breasts heave and quiver with release.  
“It worked,” Albert notes as the figure comes into clarity, now not shining white but clothed in inky blackness. A grey human eye and a red cat’s eye leer at Albert. “Yuber.”  
“As you call me,” Yuber addresses Albert, “And what do you wish of me?”  
“We need someone who loves bloodshed,” Albert explains while Sarah crawls towards Luc. With a hoarse whisper, she releases the spell that had silenced her master.  
“What the hell do you think you are doing!?” Luc rages, finally able to voice his anger. The summoning may be over, but the light of the sigil does not abate. If anything, it grows.  
“What? Only what you asked of me, Luc,” Albert responds coolly.  
“I didn’t mean this!” Luc shouts.  
Sarah clings to Luc’s leg, pulling loose the ropes she had tied fast against her master. Yuber smiles a Cheshire grin.  
“’Not this’?” Albert mocks, “And then what? I don’t have a hundred or more lives to sacrifice to the Beast Rune. Do you mean to say that slut is any more worthy than the million you wish to sacrifice for your aim?”  
“I would’ve—”  
“What? Nothing. I can see it in your face. You’re soft.”  
“You could have told me…”  
“And ruin the ritual? We needed pain. We needed fear and hate and despair. Would you have given me that in equal measure if I told you in advance?”  
Yuber licks up every moment of Luc’s distress, watching his purported master rub his wrists before reaching down to caress Sarah’s head.   
“I can leave,” Yuber says.  
“No. If you are what we need… then what is done is done,” Luc’s voice cracks, “I am used to seeing you in armor.”  
“Only when the summoned after the fashion of monsters who wish to be known as warriors,” Yuber tips his hat, “As it is, I appear like monsters who style themselves gentlemen.”  
“That has no bearing on your strength, does it? Do you need anything more to complete this ritual?” Luc asks roughly. He pulls Sarah up towards him so that she sits, naked, on his lap. He wraps his arms across her shoulders protectively and eyes Albert with a look of pure loathing.  
“I have all I need, for now,” Yuber says, “Except bloodshed—”  
“That will come. Soon enough,” Luc sighs, “Take him away, Albert. Tell him what we want to do.”  
Albert nods, his face impassive but his heart racing. It had worked. Against all odds, his adjustments to his grandfather’s ritual had worked. He can’t tell if it was residual magic or awakened desire that leaves him wanting more. He wants to enjoy Sarah’s pussy, her ass, her mouth, and more than that, enjoy her miserable whimpering. He wants to watch Luc hang off his cock, either from his mouth or from the wind magician’s own tender asshole. Albert is sure that Yuber can read his mind and derides such carnal pleasures. His tastes are far more simple. For Yuber, impalement is impalement upon a literal sword, and all the death screams that accompany it.

Luc holds Sarah close as tears streak down her face. Her shaking hand reaches up and wipe up the cum on her face. She licks it off.  
“Sarah, no, you don’t need to,” Luc protests.  
“But it’s yours, Master Luc,” Sarah says, cracking a ghost of a smile, “It’s a little bitter, but it’s yours. I like it.”  
“Sarah…” Luc sighs, holding his hand gently against he soft blonde mound of her pussy. Sarah gasps as a cool, soothing, healing wind fills her. The relief of physical pain is enough to bring tears once more to her eyes.  
Sarah pulls herself up and around Luc until she straddles him, her arms wrapping around his neck while her forehead rests against his. Luc has not yet completely lost his erection. She grinds against it, stirring him to full strength.  
“Please,” She half-sobs, “Don’t let him be the only one. I love you.”  
“I love you too, Sarah, but—”   
“Tell me it’s okay,” Sarah begs, her pussy pressing against the tip of his hard cock, threatening to spread her lips and allow him to delve inside. Where Albert had just been, Luc thinks in disgust. Where he should have been long ago.  
“I want you, Sarah,” Luc says, and guides her slowly down the length of his shaft, reveling as she gasps when he first spreads her apart, when she crests his head, and when she sinks down the full length of his shaft so that her clit can caress his skin through her forest of blonde and his of brown. She smiles as she rises up again, drawing her nipples across his chest.  
Luc seizes one breast firmly and suckles at one nipple while he massages another, all the while Sarah slides up and down his cock, shifting her weight backwards so that his cock can better stroke the most sensitive parts of her front wall, bracing her weight backwards against his thighs. With every stroke, she could feel her cheeks begin to tingle and her legs and core become hot yet numb.  
“Master Luc, I’m going to cum…” Sarah says breathlessly. Before he is even able to react she can feel her body contract around him, holding Luc close yet pushing him away except for her own force and weight pressing against him. With every breath, Sarah feels herself being drawn more out of her body and into another plane, one of pure ecstasy.  
Luc groans Sarah’s name, finding himself heady with pleasure. Sarah laughs, insensate. Everything about her pulls him inward, begging for ownership and release. He explodes inside her, reveling in a pleasure unmatched in his life. They lay on the bed entwined together for a moment, panting and exhausted, until Luc kisses Sarah’s forehead and rises to his feet.  
“I will be right back,” He promises her softly, with words more breath than sound.

Moments later, Luc returns with something in his hands. He places a white napkin wrapped around something small on the table.   
“Yuber has his blood, for now,” Luc announces, sitting down next to Sarah. He caresses her breasts and kisses her neck. Her thighs, held together as she sat naked and ladylike, spread to invite Luc in once more.   
Sarah looks at the napkin. A dark, reddish brown stain blossoms at one end.   
“Is that…?” Sarah asks. The bundle seems so puny and insignificant.  
“Nothing a strategist needs for his work,” Luc answers, and silences any further questions with a deep kiss. Albert would not abandon them, not even after what Luc had done, he thinks. He was committed enough to summon Yuber.  
Sarah strokes Luc’s cock, stirring it to hardness once again before she wraps her arms around Luc’s neck to kiss him. She leans back on the bed, pulling Luc on top of her.   
Tonight he is hers, and she is his.  
Tonight all of them are bound, yet separated by rivers of blood that will only grow.

Destroyers.


End file.
